


victory roll

by thunderylee



Category: Big Bang (Band), Sexy Zone, f(x)
Genre: Canon Universe, Gen, i know amber is not korean (now), victory²
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2019-01-15 07:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12316371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Four times Shori tried to be a dragon and one time he was victorious.





	victory roll

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Shori has seen Korean people before, of course, but none of them have come with their own entrance music.

 _Hustlin’, hustlin’, I’m a—_ “Yo,” a head of platinum blond hair greets him, casually swiping his gem-covered phone to kill the beat.

“Yo,” Shori replies, voice calm. If there’s one thing this job has prepared him for, it’s having no clue what is going on at any particular time.

“We’re alike, me and you,” the guy says. His Japanese is broken in the way that makes it sound like he’s overemphasizing everything and Shori squints to see if the black circles around his eyes are from the abundance of eyeliner or a natural shadow.

“You’re the middle member of a boyband?” Shori guesses. That would certainly make sense.

The guy pauses, frowns. “No, I’m the youngest.” He peers at Shori. “Aren’t you the youngest?”

“There are two members younger than me!” Shori practically yells. “They are still part of the group!”

“Bro.”

That smooth voice instantly calms Shori’s nerves as big panda eyes blink questioningly at him. It’s like the guy isn’t even speaking, just whispering his words in a husky tone like he’s working a 1-900 sex line instead of ambushing a complete stranger in his dressing room, which by the way is off limits to everyone who isn’t on Johnny’s payroll.

“What are you even doing here?” Shori asks, willing himself to act nonchalant. Maybe the Korean talent agencies have initiated a takeover and this is their invasion. He tries to recall everything Shintaro had instructed him to do in preparation of the zombie apocalypse, but the idol standing before him is too shiny to concentrate on anything else.

“My name is Lee Seunghyun,” the guy says slowly, carefully approaching Shori like Shori’s the dangerous one. “They call me Seungri, which means ‘victory’ in Korean.”

“Hey, my name means ‘victory’ in Japanese!” Shori exclaims, then nods knowingly. “Ah. That’s how we’re alike.”

“I’m here to help you,” Seungri goes on, running a ring-laden hand through his bright hair that reflects the fluorescent lighting ten times over. “You want to be cool, right?”

“What? I never said—” He breaks off at Seungri’s knowing look and sighs. “Okay, fine, I do. Everyone looks at me like a little kid. Whenever I try to be cool, they laugh at me. I keep waiting to get taller and build muscle, but it looks like I’m stuck like this.”

“You gotta find your inner dragon, kid,” Seungri tells him. “My hyung is as small as you and still cooler than anyone else. Nobody would dare laugh at G-Dragon.”

“You know G-Dragon?!” Shori asks, jumping in excitement. “I love Big Bang!”

“That’s my group!” Seungri declares, sounding affronted. “I’m the youngest!”

Shori blinks. “Never noticed you. Sorry.”

Seungri makes a sound that’s halfway between a hiss and a growl and Shori backs up a few steps. “Little Victory, do you want my help or not?”

“I want it,” Shori says, nodding so hard that it feels like his head might fall off of his neck and roll right onto the floor. “I’ll do anything.”

“Good.” Seungri folds his arms and gives Shori such an intense once-over that it ignites a chill. “Because we have our work cut out for us.”

Shori narrows his eyes, then snaps his fingers as he remembers where he’d seen that hair before. “Oh! Your stage name is D-Lite, right? You sing really well!”

“I. AM. V.I.!” rings in Shori’s ears for the rest of the day.

> 1\. top to bottom, so freshly dressed

“Are you sure about this?” Shori asks, eyeing the clippers in Seungri’s hand.

There is nothing comforting about the smirk on Seungri’s face. “Positive. You have to be drastic if you want to make a lasting impression. Do you know how many times I’ve seen G-Dragon with short, straight, black hair? Once. And I didn’t recognize him.”

“Shock value,” Shori says, understanding. Johnny’s talents have gotten eccentric haircuts before, but Shori has never had the nerve to do it himself. His hair is already so short, though. “What are you gonna do to it?”

“Do you trust me?” Seungri asks.

“Not one bit,” Shori answers honestly.

“That just means you’re brave,” Seungri says, and Shori’s still pondering that when the clippers attack his head.

He watches in horror as tufts of hair of various lengths flutter to the ground all around him. Nothing is consistent or symmetrical and he can already see his mother’s disapproving face when she finds out he got a Kpop haircut.

That’s exactly what it is too. The mirror shows him one buzzed side and bangs that frame the opposite eye. It doesn’t look that horrible—he vaguely recall KAT-TUN’s Taguchi sporting a similar style recently—but recoils as Seungri rolls out a small table with a large bowl and several tubes on it.

“Do you moonlight as a hair stylist?” Shori teases.

“I once dyed G-Dragon’s hair in the middle of a concert.” Seungri presents three neon tubes. “What’s your member color?”

“Red.”

Seungri grins.

The next time Shori goes into work, he feels like an idiot. He probably looks like one too with his uneven, fire-engine-red hair and a patterned outfit into which Seungri had physically wrangled him like he was a life-size dress-up doll. Sleeveless shirts are pointless if he doesn’t have muscles to show them off, he thinks, though the temporary tattooes they’d applied up and down his arms looked amazing.

“The hell happened to you?” Fuuma demands. “Your hair looks like you should be advertising for McDonald’s.”

“Time for a change,” Shori says coolly, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his incredibly tight ripped leather pants. He tries to lean against the doorframe and misjudges the distance, nearly falling on his ass before straightening up and adjusting his shirt like nothing had happened. “What do you think?”

“I think you look like you got kidnapped by a Korean pop idol,” Kento comments over the top of a large textbook. “Aren’t you a little old for the teenage rebellious stage?”

“I’m not rebelling.” Shori pouts. “I’m roaring.”

It had sounded better in his head—because dragons roar, see, so in order to find his inner dragon he has to perfect his roar—but the two older members just stare at him and shake their heads in the same exact rhythm.

“You’re gonna clash with all of your costumes,” Kento tells him, and Shori slaps his hand to his forehead in exasperation.

It comes back covered in eyeliner and various other makeup that Seungri had blended all over his face. Fuuma bursts out laughing and Shori knows that he had messed it all up, just like he messes everything up and what had even made him think that he could pull this off?

“Are we celebrating Halloween in the summertime?” Marius asks when he joins them later.

Shori barely manages to resist strangling his youngest member in honor of saving it for Big Bang’s. From what he’s read on the Internet when doing a search on Seungri the other day, it would be mutually enjoyable.

> 2\. sorry i’m a bad boy

“Maybe I got ahead of myself,” Seungri says by way of apology. “I didn’t realize you needed behavioral guidance too.”

“Dye my hair back,” Shori demands flatly. “Kento’s right—it will clash with everything I wear on stage. I don’t get to wear what I want on TV like you guys.”

Seungri regards him skeptically. “The hair isn’t the problem. It’s your attitude. You can’t look like a dragon and not breathe fire like one.”

“I’m gonna breathe a fire under your ass if you don’t fix it,” Shori growls, narrowing his eyes even more when Seungri flashes him a smile.

“That! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Channel that rage when people laugh at you. Let them know it’s not okay to treat you like that.”

“I don’t want to be angry all the time!” Shori’s already shaking from the force of his words. “The yankee delinquent thing isn’t for me anyway. I’m too nice. I couldn’t be mean to anyone. Well, besides you, because you are more of a hindrance than a help!”

“You’re not being unnecessarily mean,” Seungri says gently. “You’re standing up for yourself. You have gotten to this point because you let people walk all over you. You do anything they want so that they’ll praise you.”

Shori takes in Seungri’s heavily made up face and realizes that nothing about this is generalized. “You used to be like this too?”

After a second of hesitation, Seungri nods. “I was such a brat when I was younger. All I wanted was attention from my hyungs and the ways I went about getting it just made everything worse. As leader, G-Dragon was stuck dealing with me and gave me the tough love I needed to morph into the awesome person I am now. He shared his secrets with me all those years ago, and now I am passing them on to you.”

“Why?” Shori asks. “You don’t even know me.”

“Do not question my motives, Little Victory,” Seungri says. “Now respond to what I just said the way G-Dragon would.”

Shori purses his lips as he considers how his new role model manages to be nice and confident at the same time. “I’ll do my best?” he tries.

“And fuck anyone who tries to put you down,” Seungri adds.

Shori bites his lip.

“Say it.”

He swallows hard. “And… _fuck_ anyone who tries to put me down.”

All at once he understands why people swear, because the rush that courses through him is unprecedented and he likes the way it feels. Seungri’s nodding and bouncing a little, clearly proud of Shori’s progress, but Seungri isn’t the one he needs to convince.

The door bounces off of the wall when Shori booms into the practice room, leaving a bit of a dent from the knob. A brief pang of guilt hits him, but he’s certainly not the first person to leave a mark. Akito once punched a hole clear through the wall at the Shounen Club studio by accident.

“You still wearing that shit?” Fuuma asks, making a face at Shori’s off-the-shoulder crop top and painted jeans. “You look stupid.”

“No, you look stupid,” Shori shoots back. “I look intriguing. People are gonna look at me and be curious. People look at you and say Akanishi did it better.”

A whistle sounds from behind him, but he doesn’t turn to acknowledge it. Fuuma doesn’t say anything, just holds Shori’s eye until a deep breath has him sitting up straighter, clearly affected by Shori’s words.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, Shori, but picking a fight with me is not in your best interest.”

“I’m not trying to fight with you,” Shori says casually. “Fighting is for children. Adults work out their problems with words. I don’t like what you said to me, so I gave it right back. Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

“Kento’s right—this is totally a phase.” Fuuma peers at Shori like he’s a particularly interesting specimen in the chemistry lab. “I don’t like this you.”

It’s so point-blank that Shori’s whole resolve crumbles, his shoulders slumping as he stares at the floor. “I can’t be a little kid forever,” he mumbles. “I’m just as grown up as you are.”

“Then act like it,” Fuuma tells him. “Apologize for comparing me to Akanishi.”

“Apologize for saying I look stupid!”

“You do look stupid!”

Shori feels the rage build, his palms balling into fists by his side. “Fuck you, Fuuma.”

“What did you just say to me?” Fuuma looks a cross between appalled and amused.

“I said ‘fuck you’,” Shori repeats clearly. “Fuck you if you think you have the right to tell me how to look and act, fuck you for acting like you’re so much better than me, and fuck you for…for being jealous that I’m getting cooler than you.”

Fuuma’s mouth is slightly hanging open, which pleases Shori until he hears a rustle to the side and turns to see Marius standing there. Marius’ disapproving looks rival Shori’s mother’s on a good day and Shori feels awful for saying such nasty things where impressionable minds can overhear.

“I’m so sorry, Mari,” Shori says, the disappointment in Marius’ eyes twisting his insides.

Marius shrugs. “Don’t say it to me. Say it to the one you cursed simply for caring about you.”

Slowly, Shori swings his head back toward Fuuma. No one is there. Footsteps are stomping in the distance, but Shori thinks better of going after him. He doesn’t want two black eyes to match Seungri.

“I like this color much better,” Marius says brightly, patting the spiked areas of Shori’s vibrant violet hair, and Shori feels like the scum at the bottom of the sea.

> 3\. get your cray on

If Seungri presses his fingers into his temples any harder, he’s going to have holes for screws like Frankenstein. Shori would feel bad at making the other idol so exasperated if all of this wasn’t entirely Seungri’s fault.

“Let’s go in a different direction,” Seungri suggests. “Your artistry. You get a lot of creative leeway in your solos, right? So far it’s been inspirational pick-me-ups that are incredibly cute but forgettable. You need something to make you stand out, to make people remember you days later because what you did was so…insane.”

“Insane?” Shori questions.

“You know abstract art?” Seungri asks. “Nothing defined, just colors and patterns that are supposed to be a representation of the artist’s strong feelings or a poignant moment in a story. It can be interpreted different by everyone, which sparks communication amongst all of those who view it.”

“Attention,” Shori follows. “Word of mouth.”

Seungri smiles into his sigh, presumably happy that something he says is actually getting through to Shori. “I need you to do the performance equivalent to that.”

Shori frowns. “I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Abstract artists paint without thinking or planning,” Seungri explains. “In extreme cases, they stand back and fling paint aimlessly at the canvas, crying and laughing and yelling all at once to express their emotions in their work. On stage, one could dance with exaggerated or short, robotic movements. Sing with more vibrato or less depth. Do something unexpected that makes the whole performance better and—most importantly—memorable.”

“I’m not good at that stuff,” Shori starts, then sits up straight when Seungri rolls his eyes. “I’m not just being hard on myself here! I’m not artistic at all. I’m a technical person. I’m surprised I can even write metaphorical lyrics. And I’ll get in trouble if I deviate too much from the assigned choreography.”

“So don’t cross that line.” Seungri pats him on the bangs. “You have a rare opportunity as the middle frontman who doesn’t have to do symmetry with anyone else. Do something different. Get crazy.”

“Get crazy,” Shori repeats up until he’s standing on stage with the older two at Music Station filming. Fuuma’s still not speaking to him, and neither is Kento aside from a very angry lecture he’d gotten, but Seungri was right—neither one of them mattered. He could do his own thing and not mess them up.

He had decided to start small. The bubblegum pop nature of the song made it easy to lift his knees a little higher, sharpen his angles and wave his hands like a caricature version of himself. During one of his solo lines, he mimes a box around himself to play on the lyrics and gets some applause that makes him feel better about this risk, more confident. All eyes were already on him because of his hair and makeup, which has sparked quite a bit of controversy within the agency. Fuuma and Kento seem to be the only ones who don’t like it, so Shori is even more convinced that they’re the ones with the problem.

A few animated hiprolls and it’s easier to mold the moves to his beat, never once stepping out of turn in a way that would give anyone any reason to reprimand him. He spreads his arms wide, spins on point and makes it all the way through the bridge with a big smile on his face, winking at the camera to the delight of the crowd.

Then he falls flat on his face. He had been bugging out his eyes for effect and in return not watching where he was going, which led him to literally trip over his own feet. Strong arms pick him up and he’s right back in formation, smile plastered like nothing had happened, hoping the layers of makeup on his face are enough to hide the burn of shame.

Afterward, the staff and other guests fuss over him, the host making a light joke at which Shori politely laughs. Fuuma and Kento say nothing. Shori’s starting to get upset that they didn’t even ask him if he was okay until he looks up to find Kento’s face thoughtful instead of angry.

“Shori, I want you to talk to someone,” Kento says gently, holding out a business card with both hands.

Shori takes it. “A psychiatrist?”

“I’m worried about you!” Kento hisses. “Your drastic appearance change, your uncharacteristic lashing out, and now you’re moving around like you’re not even in control of your body! I think something might be seriously wrong with your brain, Shori!”

Given the situation, bursting out laughing probably does nothing to refute Kento’s accusation, but Shori can’t hold it back. “Kento, I’m not mentally ill! I’m just having fun, trying some new things, finding my own version of cool. I lost my balance out there, sure, but everything before that was great!”

“Watch it when it airs and see if you still feel that way,” Kento says. “I don’t like this you at all.”

“I’ve heard that already,” Shori grumbles, and when he forces himself to look through his hands at the spectacle he’d created on TV, he’s starting to agree.

> 4\. excuse me miss girl

The prettiest Korean boy Shori has ever seen in his life approaches him when he’s waiting for Seungri at a cafe. The perfect face shines with what appears to be no makeup, bleached blonde hair sticking out from under a name-brand baseball cap.

“Are you Little Victory?”

If Shori were a suave person, he’d retort with something cool and maybe a little dirty like “only in bed,” but he’s not a suave person and he’s so taken aback by the exceptional beauty of this guy that all he can do is nod.

“I’m Amber Liu, Ri’s sometimes acquaintance,” the person introduces him— _her_ self. “You’re taking me on a date.”

“You’re a girl?” Shori spits out, feeling a little like the world has been pulled out from under him.

Amber sighs. “If I didn’t owe him a favor…listen, kid. I’m the best thing that’s gonna happen to you. People will see us together and the entire planet will think you’re a stud. You wanna be cool, right? I exude so much coolness that you can soak it up just breathing the same air as me.”

“Wow…” Shori trails off, thinking back to Seungri’s lessons on confidence and how this person has it in spades. “How do you know Seungri-san?”

“Clearly, I did something very bad in a previous life,” Amber answers seriously. She adjusts her cap and straddles a floral chair. It’s incredibly unladylike and has Shori questioning everything he’s ever known about gender roles with this hardcore boss sitting across from him in a jersey and knee-length basketball shorts, the laces on her big puffy sneakers fashionably untied.

“Do you want to go to the batting cages?” Shori blurts out, then smiles sheepishly. “I mean, if this is a date, we should do something we’ll both find fun instead of sitting at a cafe.”

Amber eyes him. “Have you ever taken anyone out before?”

“I went for ice cream with a colleague once after filming,” Shori answers honestly. “She goes out with my friend, though, so it wasn’t like a date.”

“You precious basket of innocence,” Amber says in this sweet voice that won’t allow Shori to even think about being offended. “You can take me anywhere you want.”

Shori feels air gush into his eyes with as wide as they become. Amber must notice because she bursts out laughing.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she exclaims with a giggle that seems so out of place given her masculine appearance. “I mean, Ri said you were a good boy, but I thought he meant it how G and TOP think they’re good boys—as in not at all.”

“You know G-Dragon?” Shori asks, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“You could say that,” Amber answers. “The thing about G is that there’s only one of him. He cannot be replicated and anyone who thinks otherwise will fall on his face trying.”

Shori’s hand flies up to his nose, which is still recovering from his on-camera tumble. “He’s the coolest person I know.”

“No, he’s the coolest person _Ri_ knows,” Amber corrects. “ _I’m_ the coolest person you know, which is why I’m gonna save your life. Forget everything that brat ever told you ’cause he’s been going about this all wrong. You don’t need to find your inner dragon—you need to find your own victory.”

“What does that mean?” Shori asks, on the edge of his seat with anticipation. “How do I find my own victory?”

“I can’t answer that,” Amber tells him. “You gotta find it inside yourself. But I’ll tell you this much: it doesn’t include looking like you raided G’s closet and let Ri dye your hair.”

Shori nods. “I think I get it.”

“Good.” Amber swings a leg over the back of the chair as she gets to her feet and loops her arm around Shori’s, letting him lead just like a normal girl on a date. “Everyone has something they’re good at, you know. Whatever it is, when others see you happy and successful, that’s when you’ll truly be cool.”

“You’re so smart,” Shori swoons.

Amber flashes him a grin. “I know.”

Two hours later, Shori has pretty much thrown out his shoulder from missing every ball and stands on the sidelines cheering on Amber instead. She’s a spectacle by herself, gesturing out into the distance with her bat like she’s playing in a real game and predicting a home run. Shori has no doubt that she could do it and stops short at the realization that _this_ is the lesson he’s needed this whole time, smacking him right in the face like Amber had hit a pop fly past the protective netting.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Amber calls over. She glances toward him for a brief second before returning her eye to the ball machine, holding her bat high.

“Are you sure you’re really a famous pop idol?” Shori teases her.

“In the flesh!”

Amber punctuates her statement with a sharp crack, sending another ball straight ahead. With a loud, guttural cheer, she drops her bat and does a victory dance that includes exaggerated female idol moves and a backflip. Shori laughs through his applause, straightening up when she walks toward him, wiping her face with a towel.

“Tell me something,” she says. “Do you actually like any of the shit Ri put on you, or are you just playing a part?”

“I’ve gotten used to the hair,” Shori admits. “My sister asked me if I was gonna make it rainbow-colored like that guy from Exo.”

Amber wrinkles her nose and Shori laughs harder.

“Do whatever you want,” she says. “Just make sure it’s what _you_ want and not what someone else wants. You won’t succeed if you don’t feel good about yourself.”

Shori nods. “That makes sense.”

“Enough lecturing,” Amber decides. “Let’s go eat something. I’m starving!”

Somehow watching a female pop idol chow down on cheeseburgers and fries puts Shori’s world right-side up, and when she hugs him good-bye and thanks him for an unexpectedly fun date, he feels on top of it.

Two bags of clothes sit on his bed, ready to be donated to the more adventurous kouhai, but Shori thinks he’ll keep the hair color.

> +1 v.i., ready to blow

“Shori-kun, you’ve done some strange things in the past few months, why is that?”

Shori grins over at Kawai as he reaches up to pat the spikes on the back of his purple head. “Just testing out some new things. Trial and error, you know.”

“Seems you had mostly errors,” Akito chimes in and Shori laughs.

“Yeah, I was trying to be someone I’m not, and I hurt someone dear to me along the way.”

Over on the sidelines, Fuuma leans casually against the wall, watching him in silence. Shori had already apologized and explained himself, after which Fuuma had just pulled him into a tight hug and told him that he’s already cool in his own way. Once Shori was forgiven, Kento admitted the new haircut was flattering to his face even if the color would take some getting used to.

“It seems to have taught you something, after all,” Kawai points out. “You have a different air around you now.”

“That’s just the smell of hair dye,” Akito jokes. “So what’s new in the life of Sato Shori?

Out in the audience, Shori sees a familiar streak of white-blond hair and smiles. “I think I’ll try learning Korean.”

Seungri’s thumbs-up is all gems set in yellow gold and glow sticks.

After singing his new solo song without any extensive choreography or over-the-top theatrics, Shori is changing into a plain white T-shirt and jeans when Seungri’s theme song announces his presence again.

“It worked,” Seungri greets him with a twirl. “I am a genius.”

Shori snorts and opens his mouth to say that it was really Amber who influenced him, not Seungri, but then he catches his reflection and sees a completely different person looking back at him with violet hair and winged eyeliner.

“Thank you,” is all he says, turning his smirk to Seungri. “Victory-senpai.”

“You are fit to carry our name now,” Seungri pronounces. “So you wanna go out sometime?”

Shori trips over his shoes. “What?”

“We can only be more victorious together.” Seungri’s voice turns low, taking on a persuasive tone. “What do you say? At least let me buy you a drink to celebrate.”

“I’m not even nineteen yet,” Shori says incredulously. “I can’t drink alcohol.”

Seungri’s grin is borderline predatory. “You’re almost twenty in Korea.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I think I’m gonna be victorious by myself,” Shori lets him down gently. “Thanks again for your hard work, and please enjoy the rest of your time in Japan.”

A swipe of his phone blares _Victory! Shori! Victory! Shori!_ as he breezes past Seungri, making his own musically accompanied exit. Even though he hasn’t grown a centimeter, he feels taller and more confident, ready to take whatever this world throws at him. If that’s not what cool is, then Shori doesn’t want any part of it.

 _I can’t believe you shot down Ri_ , Amber texts him later. _He’s so butthurt about it. Good job_.

 _I think he’ll get over it_ , Shori replies, recalling a particularly disturbing selfie Seungri had sent him with the rest of his group (“See! I really am in Big Bang!”) that had really only served to cement Shori’s contentment with not being the youngest.

Once the shock of his new hair fades, nobody pays him much attention, and the next time someone makes fun of him, Shori just chuckles and shakes his head. He could retort that he’s the one in a debuted group while these guys are still begging for backdancing gigs, but he stays quiet. There’s no need to further instigate an argument.

“Shori-senpai is so cool,” Miyachika Kaito fawns from where he’d been an unfortunate witness to the attempted bullying. “I hope I can be as cool as you someday.”

“You will,” Shori assures him. “There’s a little victory inside all of us.”


End file.
